Part 20 (1/2)

A murmuring, a dull humming, a rustling sound-what was it? Miss Keene shut her eyes tightly, listening hard, but she couldn't identify the sound; it was too soft, too undefined. It deviated from a sort of whining vibration . . . to an escape of air . . . to a bubbling sibilance. It must be the sound of the connection, It must be the sound of the connection, she thought, she thought, it must be the telephone itself making the noise. Perhaps a wire blowing in the wind somewhere, perhaps . . . it must be the telephone itself making the noise. Perhaps a wire blowing in the wind somewhere, perhaps . . .

She stopped thinking then. She stopped breathing. The sound had ceased. Once more, silence rang in her ears. She could feel the heartbeats stumbling in her chest again, the walls of her throat closing in. Oh, this is ridiculous, Oh, this is ridiculous, she told herself. she told herself. I've already been through this-it was the storm, the storm! I've already been through this-it was the storm, the storm!

She lay back on her pillows, the receiver pressed to her ear, nervous breaths faltering from her nostrils. She could feel unreasoning dread rise like a tide within her, despite all attempts at sane deduction. Her mind kept slipping off the gla.s.sy perch of reason; she kept falling deeper and deeper.

Now she shuddered violently as the sounds began again. They couldn't possibly possibly be human sounds, she knew, and yet there was something about them, some inflection, some almost identifiable arrangement of . . . be human sounds, she knew, and yet there was something about them, some inflection, some almost identifiable arrangement of . . .

Her lips shook and a whine began to hover in her throat. But she couldn't put down the telephone, she simply couldn't. The sounds held her hypnotized. Whether they were the rise and fall of the wind or the muttering of faulty mechanisms, she didn't know, but they would not let her go.

”h.e.l.lo?” she murmured, shakily.

The sounds rose in volume. They rattled and shook in her brain.

”h.e.l.lo!” she screamed.

”H-e-l-l-o,” answered a voice on the telephone. Then Miss Keene fainted dead away.

”Are you certain it was someone saying h.e.l.lo? h.e.l.lo?” Miss Finch asked Miss Elva over the telephone. ”It might have been the connection, you know.”

”I tell you it was a man! man!” a shaking Elva Keene cried. ”It was the same man who kept listening to me say h.e.l.lo over and over and over again without answering me back. The same one who made terrible noises over the telephone!”

Miss Finch cleared her throat politely. ”Well, I'll have a man check your line, Miss Elva, as soon as he can. Of course, the men are very busy now with all the repairs on storm wreckage, but as soon as it's possible . . .”

”And what am I going to do if this-this person person calls again?” calls again?”

”You just hang up on him, Miss Elva.”

”But he keeps calling!”

”Well.” Miss Finch's affability wavered. ”Why don't you find out who he is, Miss Elva? If you can do that, why, we can take immediate action, you see and . . .”

After she'd hung up, Miss Keene lay against the pillows tensely, listening to Nurse Phillips sing husky love songs over the breakfast dishes. Miss Finch didn't believe her story, that was apparent. Miss Finch thought she was a nervous old woman falling prey to imagination. Well, Miss Finch would find out differently.

”I'll just keep calling her and calling her until she does, does,” she said irritably to Nurse Phillips just before afternoon nap.

”You just do that,” said Nurse Phillips. ”Now take your pill and lie down.”

Miss Keene lay in grumpy silence, her vein-rutted hands knotted at her sides. It was ten after two and, except for the bubbling of Nurse Phillips's front-room snores, the house was silent in the October afternoon. It makes me angry, It makes me angry, thought Elva Keene, thought Elva Keene, that no one will take this seriously. Well that no one will take this seriously. Well-her thin lips pressed together-the next time the telephone rings I'll make sure that Nurse Phillips listens until she does hear something.

Exactly then the phone rang.

Miss Keene felt a cold tremor lace down her body. Even in the daylight with sunbeams speckling her flowered coverlet, the strident ringing frightened her. She dug porcelain teeth into her lower lip to steady it. Shall I answer it? Shall I answer it? the question came and then, before she could even think to answer, her hand picked up the receiver. A deep ragged breath; she drew the phone slowly to her ear. She said, ”h.e.l.lo?” the question came and then, before she could even think to answer, her hand picked up the receiver. A deep ragged breath; she drew the phone slowly to her ear. She said, ”h.e.l.lo?”

The voice answered back, ”h.e.l.lo?”-hollow and inanimate.

”Who is this?” Miss Keene asked, trying to keep her throat clear.

”h.e.l.lo?”

”Who's calling, please?”

”h.e.l.lo?”

”Is anyone there!”

”h.e.l.lo?”

”Please . . . !”

”h.e.l.lo?”

Miss Keene jammed down the receiver and lay on her bed trembling violently, unable to catch her breath. What is it, What is it, begged her mind, begged her mind, what in G.o.d's name is it? what in G.o.d's name is it?

”Margaret!” she cried. ”Margaret!” ”Margaret!”

In the front room she heard Nurse Phillips grunt abruptly and then start coughing.

”Margaret, please . . . !”

Elva Keene heard the large-bodied woman rise to her feet and trudge across the living room floor. I must compose myself, I must compose myself, she told herself, fluttering hands to her fevered cheeks. she told herself, fluttering hands to her fevered cheeks. I must tell her exactly what happened, exactly. I must tell her exactly what happened, exactly.

”What is it?” grumbled the nurse. ”Does your stomach ache?”

Miss Keene's throat drew in tautly as she swallowed. ”He just called again,” she whispered.

”Who?”

”That man!”

”What man?”

”The one who keeps calling!” Miss Keene cried. ”He keeps saying h.e.l.lo over and over again. That's all he says-h.e.l.lo, h.e.l.lo, hel . . .”

”Now stop this,” Nurse Phillips scolded stolidly. ”Lie back and . . .”

”I don't want want to lie back!” she said frenziedly. ”I want to know who this terrible person is who keeps frightening me!” to lie back!” she said frenziedly. ”I want to know who this terrible person is who keeps frightening me!”

”Now don't work yourself into a state,” warned Nurse Phillips. ”You know how upset your stomach gets.”

Miss Keene began to sob bitterly. ”I'm afraid. I'm afraid of him. Why does he keep calling me?”

Nurse Phillips stood by the bed looking down in bovine inertia. ”Now, what did Miss Finch tell you?” she said softly.